


I'll Keep the Lights On

by The_Winter_Straw



Series: Free Fic Raffle Prizes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, POV Second Person, Post-War, Reader-Insert, secondary canon pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: And so peace did come, of a certain kind.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Reader
Series: Free Fic Raffle Prizes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687426
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	I'll Keep the Lights On

**Author's Note:**

> I get asked to write stuff for people on Quotev every so often. After having to turn so many people down, I decided that I would instead have a raffle of sorts (literally all you gotta do is express interest on the journal entry), and the winner gets to have a reader-insert or OC one shot of their heart's desire or a chapter of one of my ongoing WIPs. I'll be posting the applicable one shots here now after a brief bout of editing.
> 
> (PS. I know that Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not actually go back to Hogwarts again, but I did not know at the time of writing.)
> 
> **Winner March 2019:** LINDSAY/grantgustin  
>  **Requirements:** Harry PotterxReader; post-war; fluff

Being a fully-qualified witch did not prevent the feeling of anxiety that swept over you as you stepped inside the empty Ministry of Magic building late one summer night. Several years had passed since last you’d had a reason to go there after everyone else went home. Not much had changed. They’d replaced the horrible statue in the Atrium since Voldemort’s downfall with a memorial of all the muggle-borns that died (or worse) during his reign, but that was about it. 

The halls remained eerie and vacant and dark. Your footsteps echoed loudly as you crossed the room to the motionless lifts waiting for the coming morning. Louder still was the racket yours made when you selected your destination. That night you were not going down to Level Nine, but instead making a trip to Basement Level Two. You’d have thought that all the noise would attract every Ministry official left in the place, but no one waited for you when you got off the lift a few minutes later. 

Maybe everyone else _was_ gone. Had you come all that way for nothing after all? As you made your slow way toward Auror Headquarters, however, soft voices issued from the open door. You peeked inside to see a meeting in full swing. At least a dozen heads were turned in the direction of the current Head of Department, Gawain Benwick, but not a single one of those heads belonged to the man you were there for. 

If you had missed him, you would stun yourself. Too much effort had gone into your visit for you to fail! Just as you began to lose hope, Gawain caught your eye. He did not stop in the midst of his lecture, but motioned with his head toward the back offices. You shot him a grateful smile and hurried off before any of the others could spot who he was communicating with. 

Their voices faded as you walked away. The meeting must have been going on for quite some time, because the hallway you followed was lit only dimly. Enough time had passed since your last visit that you weren’t entirely sure where you were going. You squinted at the nameplates beside each door. In the end, they were unnecessary. There was only one door left ajar, and it was through that opening what little light there was spilled…along with a stream of snores. 

Harry Potter sat at his desk with his head stop his crossed arms. His eyes were closed, and a small amount of drool trickled from one corner of his mouth onto his elbow. You giggled. Even then, he looked better than he had in years: still tired, obviously, but more at peace. The Harry you’d known at Hogwarts never would have fallen asleep in the middle of work like that. He would not have felt he could. 

Cute as he was sleeping, you were not about to leave him be. You crept over to him, then gave his shoulder a firm shake. He launched up so quickly that his head nearly collided with your chin—not that he noticed. 

“I’m awake! You don’t have to—[Name]?” He blinked at you through crooked glasses. “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought you supper,” you answered. 

Though he looked as though he wanted to question you further, he didn’t get the chance before his stomach growled. Harry shot you a sheepish smile as he rose from his desk. “You’re a life saver. Come on. Let’s go to the Atrium. I don’t want anyone to interrupt.” 

Only a few minutes later, you were where you had started. While Harry conjured up a picnic blanket, you pulled your cooking out of the magicked bag you carried with you. You both sat down to eat in front of the memorial in silence. All that way, and you couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him. Had it really been so long that you didn’t know how to relate to your own boyfriend anymore? But once he had swallowed several forkfuls of potatoes, he broke the silence: 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

You swallowed some shepherd’s pie. “Oh. You know. I haven’t seen you much lately.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

That was true. Harry might have defeated Voldemort, but that hadn’t put an end to all crime in the Wizarding World. He’d been offered an immediate job as an auror right after you all finished going back to school. He’d been busy ever since. Most mornings he was gone before you got up to head to work at the Apothecary, and that was when he came home to sleep at all. 

“I thought we’d see more of each other when you moved in, not less,” you teased, then hastened to add, “I’m not mad. I just miss you.” 

“I miss you, too.” 

“Me? Or my food?” 

“Why not both?” 

“As long as it’s not _just_ the food. It would break my heart if you only chose me over Ron for your stomach.” 

“I can assure you, your cooking is not the _only_ advantage you have over Ron.” 

“So, just to be clear—” 

“No. I’m not planning to run back off to his flat while you’re at work.” 

“Good to know. I don’t think Hermione would much appreciate that either.” 

Harry shuddered. “No, she wouldn’t. She’s already got her hands full with work _and_ planning the wedding.” 

“Which would a lot easier if her husband-to-be spent any time at home himself.” 

“Ron _is_ going home.” 

“Harry. I saw him at that late-night auror pow-wow.” 

“Okay, okay.” He lifted his hands as though to stave off your argument. “Maybe he’s a _little_ intimidated by how intense she’s got, even for Hermione.” 

“Is she really that into the wedding?” you asked. That didn’t sound like her at all. Admittedly, you didn’t know her as well as Harry did, but you’d grown closer during that eighth year at Hogwarts, and you’d always thought of her as avoiding things as frivolous as weddings. 

“No, but she got promoted—” 

“What, again?” 

“That’s our Hermione,” Harry said, reaching for the container of treacle tart. 

“Why doesn’t she just put the wedding off until things calm down?” 

“When is she going to _stop_ getting promoted? Besides, Ron’s mum has her heart set on June. Arthur already took the time off, and Charlie’s coming in.” 

“Right.” Finished with your own meal, you watched Harry gulp down the last of his dessert. You’d seen him with your own eyes, ascertained he was all right. Keeping him any longer wouldn’t be right. He wouldn’t be at the Ministry so late if there weren’t important matters to attend to. Sighing, you waved your wand and started packing up the dirty plates. 

“You know that none of this is going to happen when we get married, right?” Harry said. 

Every little thing that had been floating toward your bag fell to the floor with a resounding crash in the emptiness. Treacle tart splattered Harry’s face; the dregs of tea splashed onto your robes. You didn’t bat an eye, busy as you were gaping at him. 

“[Name]? What’s the matter?” 

“You want to get _married_?” you blurted without thinking. 

“Well…yeah. Why? Don’t you?” 

To be frank, you hadn’t really thought about it. Harry had only moved in with you a couple months ago. You supposed, if you really put your mind to it, you’d been dating him long enough, but all the same… 

“I dunno. Aren’t we just a bit young?” 

“Ron and Hermione are the same age.” 

“Yes, but,” your face burned, “I mean— _they’ve_ been mad about each other for years.” 

He quirked an eyebrow. “And we haven’t?” 

“Yes! But—oh! It’s a little soon.” 

“We’ve been dating for two years.” 

“And we just got out of school!” 

“An extra year that we didn’t really _have_ to take. Besides, my parents married young, too.” 

“They were in the middle of a war.” 

“So were we.” Harry waved his wand, said the cleaning spell, and removed _some_ of the mess. “[Name], do you not _want_ to marry me?” 

You took a deep breath and stared at him: handsome, courageous, loving Harry, who above all wanted peace for the rest of his days. How you fit into all of that, you weren’t sure. He seemed to be, though, for his return gaze was so steady that you had to look away. 

“Of course I want to marry you,” you said softly. “I just never really considered it before.” 

“Well, I have. A lot.” Stepping over the ruined blanket, he stood in front of you. You lifted your chin to see his face above yours in the dark. 

“You have?” you whispered. 

“Yeah. But if you’d rather I ask some other time…” 

A slightly nervous laugh slipped out of your mouth. “Oh, this is your actual _proposal_?” 

“Um.” With that, he was back to his usual self. “Yes. Was there something wrong with it?” 

Instead of answering, you pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. Your fingers threaded through his messy hair. Before he could really get into it, though, you pulled away with an enormous soppy grin on your face. 

“It was perfect. Yes, I will marry you.” 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. You really had me worried." 

“Sorry. I was caught off-guard. I—” 

A memo soared out of the dark. The bright orchid paper streaked right for Harry’s head, but could not touch him before he snatched it out of the air. You waited patiently for him to finish reading it, but had a pretty good idea of what it said. Sure enough, he looked up with a grimace a few seconds later. 

“Benwick says I’ve got to come back. He’s sending Ron and I out on assignment.” 

“An auror’s work is never done. Go on. I’ll clean up here.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive. Cleaning spells aren’t really your forte,” you said with a pointed look at the tart still smeared on his forehead. He picked up a napkin to wipe it away before he shot you a final smile. 

“All right. Goodnight, [Name]. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” 

He pecked you on the lips, then stepped toward the lifts. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to the disaster in front of you. You raised your wand a second time, just as you heard the lift clattering back down to meet him. 

“Harry,” you called over your shoulder. 

“Yeah?” 

“You better come home to help me plan this wedding. I am _not_ pulling a Hermione and doing it myself.” 

He laughed. “As soon as I get back tonight, I’ll request some time off. I promise.” 

“I’ll keep the lights on for you.” 

Then Harry was gone and you found yourself alone again in the vast, empty Atrium. Wrapping up the cleaning didn’t take much time. You headed for the exit not long after your boyfriend—fiancé, you corrected yourself—left, but that time you didn’t move quite so quickly. For the first time, the Ministry of Magic did not seem so threatening. Neither did your flat seem so empty. In fact, you were quite eager to get home knowing that Harry, too, would be on his way there just as soon as he could. Maybe he couldn’t be home all the time, but even in his absence you felt there really was a happily ever after after all.


End file.
